The Future Is Coming, and I Need a Human

I have seen the future of technology, and it currently requires an employee override at register four.

The premise of the modern world is that technology is supposed to make our lives easier. Most of the time, I’m all for it. Which is why I find it fascinating when some of our greatest technological achievements still require Mildred from Kroger to push two buttons and send me on my way.

One of life’s little adventures is the self-checkout lane at the grocery store. The line is short, and I tell myself I’ll get out faster. Instead, I enter a battle of wills with a plastic bag sensor.

“Place the item in the bagging area,” the machine barks.

My favorite adventure is when I have multiple items and the flashing red light goes off, shutting down the system because the machine thinks I haven’t scanned a twelve-pack of Diet Coke.

Here comes my friend Mildred. She oversees self-checkout.

Mildred is probably 78 and has a smirk that says she understands the technology better than I do. She replays the little camera that’s been watching my every move and, sure enough, I scanned all the drinks. She pushes a couple of buttons and sends me on my way.

This week, my new laptop had a complete breakdown. It wiped out every preference and password. Do you have any idea how long it takes to totally rebuild your technological life? One of the oddest things is that on the same day, the PIN was wiped out on my debit card. I stopped by the bank, and the very young gentleman helping me saw me coming. I explained what had happened and asked whether the laptop’s malfunction could have removed it and whether this had happened often.

He said it couldn’t be the computer, and he’d never seen it before.

I feel special.

He reset the code.

By the second day, I had forgotten the four-digit number and had to go back to the bank. Luckily, I slipped into the manager’s office before he could see me. She is closer to my age and is more understanding

Restaurants are no better, typically the trendy ones.

I used to walk in, sit down, and read a menu printed on paper. Now I have to scan a QR code stuck to the table.

First, I have to unlock my phone with a password that currently requires a capital letter, a zodiac sign, a haiku, and a drop of blood. Then I enlarge the menu until the type is visible from space just to find out which burrito I want.

And heaven help you if you need customer service.

A cheerful voice tells you to “listen carefully, as our menu options have changed.”

You press 1, then 4, then pound, and clearly explain your problem.

The computer apologizes. Then asks you to repeat it.

Eventually, every civilized person reaches the same conclusion and begins screaming “Representative!” into the phone.

This week, while watching the news, I saw a story about a robot exhibition in China. We were told this was one of the world’s most sophisticated robots, so sophisticated it could dance backwards on a marble floor.

The robot slipped and collapsed into a thousand pieces. I don’t need a robot that can do that. I am perfectly capable of falling on a slippery surface, hoping not to break a hip.

Whoever is programming these things is focusing on all the wrong jobs.

I want one trained to bring me coffee in bed, clean the toilets, fold a fitted sheet, and empty the dishwasher.

Until that time comes, I think I’ll just keep visiting Mildred at Kroger. She knows me there.